


ships passing in the night

by Zykaben



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Professors, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication, POV Outsider, POV Tim Stoker, Secret Marriage, Tim just doesn't realize it, but it's for the purpose of comedy not drama, except not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22250740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zykaben/pseuds/Zykaben
Summary: Tim meets and befriends the new professor on the staff, Jonathan Sim. Tim has also been casual friends with Martin Blackwood for the past year.It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Tim to realize that the two of them are married to each other.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 92
Kudos: 2153





	ships passing in the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeanMeanSaltineMachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeanMeanSaltineMachine/gifts).



> Happy (late) birthday to Lee! Went for the Teachers AU and Outsider POV stuff. I hope that you like it.
> 
> Also, a HUGE thank you to [smallhorizons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallhorizons/) for betaing this fic. They helped polish this up to something wonderful and I am infinitely grateful.
> 
> Happy reading!

Tim liked to think that he was a decent judge of character. He’d been wrong before because _everyone_ was wrong sometimes, but his overall record was pretty damn good, if he did say so himself. He couldn’t reliably guess at specifics—Tim would _love_ to find someone who could—but general impressions came to him quickly.

This was all to say that Tim was fairly confident about classifying the new professor who sat all by his lonesome as something of an uptight arsehole. Not even five seconds after Tim had reached that conclusion, he decided that his new mission (read: fun way to kill time) was to either befriend or annoy the hell out of him. What he would end up doing relied largely on seeing whether or not this guy was a decent arsehole or just an absolute arse.

Once the head of the liberal arts department had called their quick meeting to an end, Tim got up out of his seat and quickly made his way to the new professor. He was sure to fix a winning smile onto his face as he approached. When the man seemed to realize that Tim was heading towards him, he froze and his eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. Tim valiantly refused to laugh at him.

“Hey, it’s great to meet you,” Tim said, keeping his tone light and friendly. “You’re the new professor, yeah?”

The other man straightened from his slight slouch so that he stood at his full height. He was at least a head shorter than Tim. It reminded Tim of a cat to a genuinely comedic degree.

He cleared his throat imperiously and when he spoke, his voice was cold and stilted. “Yes. Jonathan Sims.”

Tim waited for Jonathan to continue, to say something else. After a solid five seconds of silence, Tim realized that he wasn’t going to get any more of a response. He pulled back a bit and silently patted himself on the back for another successful judgment. “… Right.”

Jonathan looked surprised at that. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again to talk. “It’s, uh, it’s nice to meet you.”

Tim briefly debated whether Jonathan was an asshole or just _that_ awkward. He was leaning more towards the former right now but decided that he’d give Jonathan the benefit of the doubt for now. 

“Glad to hear it!” Tim said, making sure to keep his voice light and cheery. “I’m Tim Stoker, one of the journalism professors here. Can’t say I know what you’re teaching, but since you didn’t show up at the department meeting I’m going to wager that you haven’t joined the esteemed ranks of the reporters.”

“Ah, no,” Jonathan said, words halting and his eyes moving to look somewhere to the right of Tim. Jonathan swallowed. “I’m with the, uh, occult studies department.”

“Oh, nice!” Tim grinned. “I’m not too close with anyone over there, but the subject has always sounded really interesting to me. I keep meaning to look into it at some point but I just never seem to get the chance. It’s a shame, really. But never mind that—what’s your area of expertise?”

“Occult history, mostly,” Jonathan said. He still wasn’t looking at Tim and Tim was not enough of a prick to judge him for it. “I’m… teaching a class on the general overview of major occult groups. My focus leans more towards occult practices and beliefs in the medieval period, though.” By the time he’d finished talking, Jonathan had relaxed slightly. His shoulders were less tense and he looked like he wasn’t about to bolt given half the chance.

“Damn, I might just have to sit in on a class or two myself,” Tim said. When Jonathan’s gaze drifted back to Tim’s face, Tim couldn’t help but give him a cheeky wink. Yeah, he actually _did_ want to sit in on one of Jonathan’s classes but a little flirting never hurt anyone.

To Tim’s surprise, Jonathan didn’t roll his eyes or act all huffy at the wink. Instead, Jonathan’s face darkened and the look of mild panic was back. “I—um. I’m sure—you seem, ah, nice? And I appreciate the interest but—”

“Oh Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“—I just happen to have a husband that I am very much in love with,” Jonathan finished.

Tim’s eyes darted to Jonathan’s left hand and, clear as day, an elegant silver wedding band was around his ring finger. “Sorry mate, should have checked for that first. I’m a lot of things but I don’t think I ever want one of them to be ‘homewrecker’.”

“It’s fine,” Jonathan assured him. “I’ve never had something like this happen before.”

Tim laughed. “It’s definitely a first for me. Haven’t really flirted with a married person before. At least, that I know of. And hey, this’ll make for a funny story to tell one day.”

Jonathan’s mouth twitched up ever so slightly into a ghost of a smile. Tim counted it as a victory. “I suppose that you’re right.”

“Just tell me, should I be worried about your husband coming for my blood?” Tim teased.

Jonathan’s smile, though small, stuck around on his face this time. “No, you’re safe. He’s prone to jealousy on occasion, but he’s just so _kind_ and he trusts me enough that it’s never been a problem.”

“Sounds like quite the catch.”

Oh fuck, the lovesick look on Jonathan’s face was so soft and warm that Tim couldn’t help but feel a small surge of happiness for him. “Yes. He is. I’m very lucky, though he always insists that _he’s_ the lucky one.”

“Can’t say I’m an expert on marriage, but I do believe that’s how those things tend to go,” Tim nodded sagely.

“I don’t think that I will _ever_ be an expert on marriage,” Jonathan said. “It’ll be six years in early November and I don’t think I’ve reached a greater understanding of some kind.”

“But it suits you?” Tim asked.

The same overwhelming look of _love_ passed over Jonathan’s face. “Yes, it does. I believe that I will eventually get used to it but I don’t think that I will ever tire of waking up next to him.”

“Good for you,” Tim said.

Jonathan seemed to realize that he’d been mooning over his husband and returned to reality with a small jolt. “Ah. Right. Thank you for listening to me prattle on about my husband. I can’t imagine that it makes for an engaging conversation.”

“Nah, it’s nice to listen to,” Tim admitted. “Your husband sounds like a great guy. And hey, if you ever want to teach me more about occult studies, learn more about journalism, or just grab a coffee, feel free to reach out.”

Jonathan seemed to give the offer serious consideration, brows furrowing before he gave a short nod. “Yes, I think I will. It was… surprisingly pleasant to meet you.”

Tim flashed Jonathan another grin. He stuck his hand out between them. “Same to you, Jonathan.”

“Jon,” Jon said as he took Tim’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Got it,” Tim said. Tim withdrew his hand and gave a mock salute. “See you around, Jon.”

“You as well.”

So Jon’s level of arseholeness was still up in the air for the time being, but that was fine. Tim had a feeling that the two of them would chat again at some point. Who knew? Maybe he could even meet Jon’s absolute catch of a husband. The more friends the merrier.

* * *

No one could make tea like Martin could. Tim would bet his fucking life on it. He had no idea what the hell it was that Martin did differently from every other person on the planet, but Martin’s tea was some of the best that Tim had ever had. It was why Tim made it a point to invite Martin over to his flat for tea every week or so.

“Thanks,” Tim said, taking the full, steaming mug into his hands as Martin gave it to him. It was Martin’s tea—the man brought over his own and Tim was _not_ about to complain. Tim inhaled deeply through his nose, just savoring the smell before he took a sip. “Delicious as always. I’ve missed these little meetings of ours over the summer, you know?”

“Yeah, they’re nice,” Martin said with a lopsided smile. “How are things going with you? Ready for the new term?”

Tim shrugged. “As much as I think I’ll ever be. Not looking forward to the intro class I have to teach, but it’s nice to be back again. I was going a bit stir crazy towards the end of the break. There’s only so much kayaking that one man can do. And you? Are you ready to teach some brats about fine literature?”

Martin sighed and took a sip of his tea. “I mean, yeah, of course. I love teaching. I just… miss the time off.”

“Oh?” Tim leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows. “Am I finally going to be privy to the details about the life of the ever-elusive Martin Blackwood?”

Martin fixed Tim with an unimpressed stare. “‘Ever-elusive’? Tim, I’m not exactly some kind of—some kind of secret agent or something.”

“That I know of,” Tim teased. “For all I know, you’re living an action movie every time I’m not around.”

“Tim, I can’t even jog all the way across campus without losing my breath.”

“Man in the chair sort of schtick then,” Tim countered. “Giving top-secret information to the agents in the field and helping them to complete their missions.”

Martin gave a small huff of laughter. “Yeah, that’s _exactly_ what I do between having tea with friends and teaching students and grading papers.”

Tim smiled at the sarcasm that practically _dripped_ from Martin’s words, the little shit. He could press if he wanted to. He _did_ want to know more about Martin. Tim had never met someone so open and friendly that was so intensely private in his life. Tim had fought tooth and nail for just about every scrap that he could glean—Martin liked poetry and had once alluded to writing poems, his parents weren’t really in the picture (though to what extent and in what capacity, Tim had no idea of), and he was married to _someone,_ if the wedding band was anything to go by. Tim didn’t even know Martin’s favorite color and they’d known each other for a _year._

It was still early in the school year, though. Tim had time.

“Well, I’m glad that you had a nice time over the break,” Tim said. “Oh, hey, I forgot to mention—you remember how I told you that Danny started a YouTube channel for him and his urban exploring friends? Apparently it _really_ blew up this summer after he did a video with those Ghost Hunt UK people. Can’t say I know how it works, exactly, but they’re actually making money off of it now. They’re thinking about doing that kind of stuff full time if their base keeps growing the way it has been.”

“Oh wow, that’s great! I hope that it works out for them.”

“Yeah, same here. But I have faith in them. If anyone can make it happen, it’d be Danny.”

Martin smiled warmly. “Based on what you’ve told me about him? Yeah, I can believe it.”

Tim hummed in response and took another long sip from his mug. “Christ, if you weren’t already married then I think I’d have taken you for your tea alone.”

“One day that mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble,” Martin teased.

“Oh god, I know. I accidentally flirted with a married man earlier this week.”

Martin choked on his tea. His coughs were laced with laughs. “You _didn’t._ ”

Tim sighed dramatically. “Oh, but I did. It wasn’t even anything, just a small wink. He got absolutely flustered and told me that he was already in a very happy and loving relationship. The way he talked about his husband was really sweet. That man is completely smitten.”

Martin laughed again. “Sounds like you recovered well enough.”

“Well, obviously. Nothing can keep Professor Stoker down and don’t you forget it.”

“Like you’d give me the chance.”

Tim just grinned deviously. Martin rolled his eyes.

They sat in companionable quiet for a bit, just enjoying the calm and tea together.

“How’s your writing been going?” Martin asked eventually. “I think you mentioned something about trying to start a novel last year…?”

“I did,” Tim said. “It’s going alright, I suppose. I had some time this summer but I’ve been hitting blocks more often. Still, progress is progress so I’m not complaining too much.”

“That’s good to hear. Wasn’t it about… a boy who made a pact with a monster?”

“Yeah, fun urban fantasy stuff,” Tim said. He felt something warm and fuzzy at the fact that Martin had remembered it. “He makes a deal with a monster in order to avenge his brother but eventually gets roped into saving the world.”

“Right, I remember now,” Martin nodded. “Do you think that you’re close to finishing it?”

Tim shrugged. “Maybe in another month or two? But then I have a _lot_ of editing to do after that.”

“I wouldn’t mind looking it over if you’d like another set of eyes on it. I may not be able to write that well myself, but I’ve been told that I’m a decent editor.”

Tim faltered a bit for a moment. “Really? Because that would be fantastic.”

Martin smiled. “Yeah, of course. I’d be happy to.”

Tim felt giddy. “I’ll send you the draft as soon as I finish it.”

“I look forward to it.”

Martin left not too long after they’d finished off the rest of the tea. Tim saw him out, polite host that he was. Once he closed the door, he felt his fingers _itch._ He grabbed an apple from the fridge and hurried over to his laptop. He opened up his file, took a bite of his apple, and began to type.

* * *

It was about two weeks into the term before Tim decided to make good on his promise to sit in on one of Jon’s classes. He shot Jon a quick email asking if it’d be alright with him and received an affirmative response.

Tim showed up about ten minutes early. Jon was standing at the front of the room, looking over something on his laptop. A couple of students were already there, though they seemed to be keeping to themselves. Tim gave a lax wave to Jon and, when Jon continued to stare at his laptop, began to walk towards him.

Tim stopped next to Jon and glanced at the screen. It was a text document that was _full_ of writing and images. It was color-coded.

Tim quirked a brow. “Damn, and I thought _Elias_ was organized.”

Jon jumped and his head whipped around to look at Tim. Jon was tense for half a second and then relaxed a bit. “Elias Bouchard? The dean?”

“Yeah. I swear that man gets off on spreadsheets in his spare time.”

Jon gave a strangled laugh followed by a few coughs at that. His expression when he side-eyed Tim was stern but his eyes were dancing. “That may not be the most appropriate topic.”

“Sure, sure. Still, the whole”—Tim gestured vaguely at Jon’s laptop screen—“thing is pretty impressive. I just crank out a powerpoint and pray to whoever’s listening that I remember what’s on it.”

“Everyone has a… different approach,” Jon said, tone sounding like he was aiming for neutral but not _quite_ making it there. “But thank you. Admittedly, it doesn’t quite translate to every aspect of my life. It means that I end up being rather particular about certain things and… more chaotic in others. It drives my husband mad sometimes.”

Tim snorted. “He an organized type, then?”

“Not as such,” Jon said. “He’s fine going along with whatever system of meticulous and arbitrary organization I have in place, which is something that I am endlessly thankful for. The problem comes when I, ah, _don’t_ have a system in place.”

“How so?”

“He is rather fond of telling the story of how he spent an hour looking in the kitchen for his favorite tea. It was only after he made himself a cup of ‘inferior tea’ that he walked back into our room to find that I’d placed it on the nightstand.”

That got a hearty laugh out of Tim. “Why on Earth did you put it _there_?”

Jon smiled a bit. “I had planned to make him some but I was running short on time. I figured that he would see it sooner if it was there. He was _very_ clear on the fact that it was far more helpful if I kept the tea in the proper cabinet.”

“My god, that’s…”

“Rather humorous, yes.”

“Christ, it really is. I’ll have this one professor over to my flat for tea sometimes and he’ll bring his own tea tins. He doesn’t even let me _touch_ the damn things. I think that he would actually kill me if I took one and stashed it somewhere.”

Jon chuckled. “It sounds like the two of them would get along quite well.”

“Probably,” Tim agreed. He glanced at the room, more full than it had been previously. He checked the time on Jon’s laptop. “Well, I should probably grab a seat. Thanks again for letting me listen in.”

“Of course,” Jon said. “I’d offer to talk to you more about it afterward but I’m, ah, going to be meeting with my husband.”

“Date night?” Tim asked.

Jon’s face went all soft again. “Yes.”

“I’ll just shoot an email about any questions I have then,” Tim said. He took a step back. “Good luck with the lecture.”

Jon waved him off as he pulled up a powerpoint. “Yes, yes. Thank you.”

Tim grabbed a seat in the back of the classroom and settled in.

* * *

Tim rapped his knuckles against the wood of the door. “Knock knock.”

Martin’s head turned away from his desktop. “Oh, hello Tim. Come on in.”

Tim pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped into Martin’s office. It was a small room, as most offices were, and the far wall was _covered_ by a bookshelf that was one book away from bursting. Martin’s desk hugged the right wall and was turned to face the door, his drawers and filing cabinets pressed against the left wall. There was _just_ enough space leftover for two wooden chairs to fit snugly between Martin’s desk and the near wall, both of them turned to face Martin.

Tim took a seat in the right chair—the left one had a leg that was too short and wobbled something awful. “So.”

“So,” Martin echoed. “Your manuscript.”

“Yup,” Tim said. He sighed. “I know that you’re not going to lie to me, but _please_ just be upfront with me about it because I’ve been anxious ever since I sent it to you and—”

“I think it’s really good.”

Tim took in a quick, deep breath. “Okay. I know that this sounds hopelessly insecure but I have to ask it anyway. You’re not fucking with me?”

“No,” Martin reassured. “It’s a good story and I liked reading it. I mean, it’s not _perfect_ and I have a good amount of edits and suggestions but—”

Tim curled forward and buried his face in his hands. “Christ, you have _no_ idea how relieved I am to hear that. Thank you.”

Nothing happened for a couple of seconds. Tim felt a warm hand come to pat comfortingly on his shoulder. “Yeah, of course. Like I said, I genuinely enjoyed reading it. You’re a good writer, Tim. I think that you might really have something here. We just need to polish it up a bit, run it by a few more people.”

Tim lifted his head up out of his hands as Martin pulled his hand back. “Martin Blackwood, I think that I might be a little bit in love with you right now.”

Martin laughed. “Oh, you won’t be saying that in a second.”

“What?”

Martin rolled his chair over to one of the drawers on the other side of the room and pulled it open. He took out a stack of papers a few centimeters thick, if that. He rolled back and placed it on his desk and slid it towards Tim.

Tim sat up and leaned forward to look at it. It was his writing, printed out and marked up with red ink; slashes and circles and scribbled notes were splashed all across the page. Tim picked up the stack and quickly thumbed through some of it. Some pages were less of a bloodbath than others, but each and every one of them had some sort of note or marking.

Tim looked back up to Martin. “You’re right. Now I’m just _madly_ in love with you.”

Martin laughed again, eyes crinkling and smile staying on his face even after he’d stopped. “Your undying love for me aside, not everything in there is criticism. I mean, a lot of it _is,_ but I also picked out parts I liked or thought worked well, put down anywhere I had a question about something. Uh, I made some suggestions on sentence structure to help with flow. I corrected any grammatical problem that I caught, but I wasn’t looking out for those too closely so I’m sure that I missed some of those.”

Tim shook his head faintly in disbelief. “Martin, I cannot begin to tell you how amazing this is. This is—fuck. This means so damn much to me. If there’s ever anything you need from me, I swear I’ll help with it. Fuck, I’m going to cry.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “Do you need—?”

“No, no,” Tim said. “I don’t think I’m actually going to start bawling right now but I think I could. If I pushed it. Christ, I’m just rambling now.”

“A bit.”

Tim scanned over the first page again, not really taking in anything more than the shape of Martin’s markings. “I’ll read through all of this as soon as I can. You’re fine with me asking you questions about it, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, feel free,” Martin said. “I’m fine with helping you talk out concepts and ideas, too. If you need to.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that,” Tim said. He opened up his bag and carefully slid the manuscript into the pocket where he usually kept his laptop. Once everything was in place and as secure as he could have gotten it, Tim zipped it up and threw it over his shoulder. He looked back up at Martin again. “You eat yet?”

“Uh, no, not yet. Why, did you want to grab lunch?”

“Read my mind,” Tim smiled. “Come on, let’s go out and grab something. My treat.”

Martin locked his computer and stood up from his desk. “You’re not paying for me, Tim.”

Tim ended up paying for him despite Martin’s vehement protests, much to the amusement of their waiter.

* * *

Autumn was in full swing now, the air chill and Halloween right around the corner. Tim was walking home from classes when his phone chirped. He pulled it out and opened his messages. 

**Martin 📚☕☀️: Hey, would you be okay with having tea at mine today?**

Tim stared at his phone long and hard for a while.

**Me: yeah sounds good**

**Me: something up?**

**Martin 📚☕☀️: No everything is fine. Just realized that it’s a bit overdue**

**Martin 📚☕☀️: Can’t stay elusive forever :P**

Tim didn’t feel any shame about the fist pump he gave after reading that.

**Me: lmao glad to hear it**

**Me: same time?**

**Martin 📚☕☀️: Yep! One second, I’ll send my adress**

**Martin 📚☕☀️: *address**

**Me: wouldnt mind if i got ur dress either lol**

**Martin 📚☕☀️: Don’t make me regret this before I’ve already done it**

Sure enough, the next message Martin sent was an address. Tim plugged it into his maps app and saw that it was within walking distance of his flat. ****

 **Me: see u then** ********

**Martin 📚☕☀️: :D**

* * *

Martin opened the door to his flat not even a second after Tim had knocked. It was unsurprising considering the fact that Martin had just buzzed him up.

“Come in,” Martin said, shuffling out of the doorway. Tim smiled and stepped inside.

Tim’s first impression of the flat was the overall _hominess_ of it. It felt warm and cozy and well-loved in a way that burned sweetly in Tim’s chest. There were coasters left out on the coffee table, a fuzzy blanket folded over the back of the sofa, and a book with a worn cover laid down on the kitchen table.

“Nice place,” Tim said.

“Thanks,” Martin smiled. “Have a seat anywhere you want to. The tea is just steeping right now.”

“Awesome.” Tim walked over to the sofa and sat down on it. It was so soft that he felt like he might sink into the cushions and never surface again. He kept himself busy with taking in Martin’s flat, soaking in the warm colors and tea-scented air.

Martin came over with two mugs and placed them on the coasters that were out. He left and came back over with the teapot, filling up both of their mugs.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Martin said once he put the pot down (also on a coaster), “but Jon might join us? He has a meeting with his department that should be wrapping up soon.”

Tim’s mug stopped halfway up to his face. He turned to look at Martin. “I didn’t know that you knew Jon.”

Martin looked _very_ confused. “What? Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just—”

The door to the flat slammed open. Tim just _barely_ managed to keep his tea from spilling over in his surprise.

Jon walked briskly into the flat, closing the door behind him. “The meeting ended early and—oh, hello Tim.”

Tim was absolutely _baffled_ by this point. “Uh, hi.”

“Grab yourself a mug,” Martin told Jon. “Tea’s ready.”

“Wonderful.”

Tim blankly watched as Jon opened a cabinet and pulled out a mug with black and purple stripes. Jon sat down next to Martin and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek that Martin returned easily. They were relaxed and comfortable, like this was an old song and dance for the two of them.

Suddenly it _clicked._

“You’re husbands,” Tim breathed out. “You’re each other’s husband.”

Now _both_ Martin and Jon were giving Tim confused looks. “Well, yeah,” Martin said. “I… thought you knew?”

“How the hell was I supposed to know?” Tim exclaimed. “ _You_ don’t ever talk about yourself and Jon only ever talks about his ‘husband’! I never got a _name_ from either of you!”

Jon looked absolutely mortified. Martin looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“I could have sworn that I mentioned Jon to you before now,” Martin said. “Seems like something significant to gloss over and I don’t remember you asking.”

Tim sputtered indignantly.

“To be fair, we didn’t know that we both knew you at first,” Jon said, seeming to find his voice. “We, uh, only figured out a few days after you sat in on my class. I mentioned you and he told me about how you were the same person he had tea with every so often. I… thought that you knew.”

Tim wanted to bang his head into a wall. He must have been making one hell of an expression because Martin started laughing.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up,” Tim grumbled. “Like it’s _my_ fault for not being nosey.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Martin said, amusement coloring his tone. “It’s just—it’s funny, is all. I’m not laughing at you, I promise. Just the situation.”

“I should have said something,” Jon said. “At least _mentioned_ Martin or—”

“S’not your fault,” Tim cut him off. He sighed. “Like Martin said, it’s just the situation.”

“Well,” Jon started. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad that we got that cleared up.”

Martin leaned over to rest his head on top of Jon’s. “Mhm.” Martin stayed there for a few more seconds before pulling away and reaching for the pot again. “Here, let me pour you some tea.”

“Thank you.”

Tim watched the exchange, how Jon’s look of absolute adoration and affection and _love_ was perfectly mirrored by Martin. How Martin let their hands brush, how Jon tilted towards him as Martin put the pot back down. How they pressed their thighs against each other, how Martin watched Jon take his first sip with so much raw _tenderness_ in his face that it damn near took Tim’s breath away.

Tim just shook his head. “Lovesick fools, the both of you.”

Jon smiled shyly at him as Martin looked him right in the eye and said, “And proud of it.”

Tim laughed. “Fantastic. Hey, do you have any biscuits?”

Martin rolled his eyes at him as Jon got up to fetch them.

In too little time, Tim had to leave. Lesson planning wasn’t his idea of a great time but it was necessary and he _really_ shouldn’t put it all off until the last minute.

Martin led him to the door while Jon took his empty mug to rinse in the sink. “It was great having you,” Martin said as he opened the door for Tim. After a quick glance at Jon, he continued, “If you’d ever like to come over and have tea with us again, we’d love to have you.”

Jon hummed an affirmative from the kitchen.

“You know,” Tim grinned, “I think I might just do that.”

And, just like that, tea with Martin turned into tea with Martin and Jon. It was cozy and warm and comfortable and kind.

Tim wouldn’t give up it for the world. Now, if only he could get Martin to stop teasing him about not knowing that he and Jon had been married the whole damn time.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you liked reading (especially you, Lee)! Feel free to leave a kudos or comment if the mood strikes you. 
> 
> Have a great day :D
> 
> You can find me [here on tumblr.](https://zykaben.tumblr.com) Feel free to hit me up there!


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